Mad for Love: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 2 Page 16

  The coachman swung down from his perch and slid the shutters away from the lights, which illuminated the road before them.

  Aurelia was still confused, still unsure, but she knew one thing. She belonged with this man. If that made her an idiot, so be it.

  “We’ll marry as soon as possible,” he stated, and that made her smile.

  “Don’t you think we should talk about it?”

  Marcus spoke up then. “I told you when we set out that you’d have to end the journey married.”

  The coach jolted into movement, but the driver didn’t push the horses into a trot. They walked, better at night, when potholes and ruts made most roads dangerous. But they had no choice. They had to get away.

  “Can’t you—I don’t know—” She waved a hand in the air. “Do magic or something?”

  Marcus smiled lazily, at ease now that they were on their way. “If we wanted to announce our presence, yes, we could. But that’s always been anathema to us.” He leaned forward and closed the blinds over the windows, then turned up the wicks on the interior lamps in the coach, giving them more illumination.

  “How do you know that?” Blaize demanded.

  “Instinct,” Marcus said, “And my own feelings. It’s wrong. I’ve fought all my adult life to allow people the freedom of choice. So I should support people who want to take that away?” He shook his head slightly. “I think not.”

  “Your choice is Marcus or myself,” Blaize told her. “Or we could hire someone to marry you. But you will return to London a married woman. Society won’t like that we eloped, but we can recover from that. What you would never recover from is spending over a week with two men and no chaperone.”

  She had to admit they had the right of it. And she wanted one man in particular. Except now she was a little afraid of him. She’d seen what he could do, and she suspected he was capable of more. “Tell me what you can do,” she demanded. “Exactly what am I marrying?”

  Blaize made a courtly gesture to Marcus. “It appears the lady has made her choice.” He turned to her with a smile. “Sweetheart, I can drive men mad. I need to drink to stay sane, especially wine.”

  “I think I managed to understand that part.”

  Silently, Marcus handed Blaize a bottle of wine, uncorked. Without taking his attention from her, Blaize took a deep draught. “The more I drink of this, the stronger I’ll become. I don’t ever become intoxicated, unless I haven’t had any alcohol lately.”

  “I never saw you drunk.” She hated her small voice. She cleared her throat.

  “You never will.” He took another drink. “If I stop drinking, within a day, I come into my true powers. I’m mad, as the world might have it, but not as I’ve been for the last—how long?”

  “Two weeks,” Marcus said quietly. Blaize swore, and offered no apology. He drank again before he continued. “I need bacchantes to work properly. The bacchanal wasn’t a drunken orgy—not just a drunken orgy. It has a purpose. I can incite mobs to riot, and drive armies berserk. But I’m also in control of sanity, the opposite of madness.”

  “How can you disguise doing that?”

  Blaize shrugged, a graceful movement of his powerful shoulders. She’d have thought that after two weeks of near starvation, he’d be thinner, less strong, but that wasn’t the case. Wearing a shirt, breeches and waistcoat, with sturdy country shoes and no stockings, his figure was disguised. Only now did she realize how clever his town coats were cut to minimize his strength. “People believe what they want to believe. They’ll come to the conclusion they can understand. It’s happened down the ages. It will happen again. When I’m gone, the next Bacchus will incite it.”

  “But always on the side of good.”

  Reluctantly, Blaize shook his head. “Not always. It depends on the character of the man containing the gifts. The gifts don’t think, they have no independent existence. They need the host, the thinking, moving human being.” A shadow crossed his eyes, then was gone.

  He reached for her and she took his hand, but new doubts assaulted her. She’d never felt so small, so pointless. She’d done all she could to help, but without them they would have stormed the castle and taken it.

  But she would marry him, because she had to. She’d take what he had to give her, but she wouldn’t hold him back. He needed to go to places she couldn’t follow, and she’d have to let him when the time came.

  “Where are we going?” she demanded when she realized they weren’t going back to the village.

  “Leith,” Marcus said. “We’re taking ship to London as soon as possible. I sent a messenger to Newcastle and bespoke a vessel. It should be waiting for us. If it isn’t, we’ll find another. The dowager will be waiting for us on the road to London, once she hears of this. She won’t be expecting a ship. I didn’t have time to organise anything from London, otherwise we’d have taken ship here too.”

  “Clever.”

  He shrugged. “Military strategy includes taking advantage of the unexpected. I also told the landlady that we’d be making haste to Gretna tonight. Let it slip, as if I shouldn’t have said anything. If your mother hears, she’ll be delighted.”

  “Maybe I should have gone into the house. Because if she does hear, she’ll know who rescued Blaize,” she said.

  Blaize raised a brow. “I did.”

  “If I hadn’t left you the wine, you wouldn’t have done,” Lyndhurst said.

  How a man could appear elegant dressed in rough country clothes, none too clean, defeated her imagination, but he did. Haughty too. “I would have starved myself for a few days. Mad and dangerous, I’d have escaped.” He grimaced. “But I fear there was something in that drug that compelled me to take it. I was eating the most noxious rubbish. It could have killed a lesser man.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I can’t understand why Mama would torture you like that. If she is who you say, then I can see her fighting back, but she’s never been a cruel woman.”

  “Even keeping you under thrall so that she can draw immortals to her?”

  Blaize cut off his sentence abruptly and Marcus rolled his eyes. “I could always get out and walk.”

  In a second, she rounded on Blaize. “What did you say?”

  Blaize groaned. “I’m still weak. I need help.”

  “That is not going to work. What did you mean?”

  The coach jolted, sending her against him with a heavy thump. She pulled away and leaned against the corner, as far away from him as she could get in this cramped space. No, she wouldn’t let him seduce her with his big body and his easy smile. She wanted answers.

  Blaize gazed at her, his eyes distant. Then he sat forward and rested one hand on his knee, turning to confront her directly. “I don’t think it affected you in any way. I think she did something, gave you something that changed your attraction to men. Did you never notice how they flocked to you?”

  She sniffed. “Until recently I thought that was my fortune. And my dazzling beauty, of course.” Never forget that. But yes, now he mentioned it, the phenomenon had puzzled her. She’d usually put it down to rank and fortune, but other heiresses, more beautiful if she were honest with herself, had watched as men walked past them and headed for her. Not all of them could have wanted her influence or her money. Some were as well off in that respect as she.

  “Every time I look at you, I see that,” he said softly, and he meant it. His expression softened and his eyes drank her in. He must still have some traces of madness about him. That was the only way she could explain it. Or he was as deep in love as she was.

  “Nonsense,” she said briskly now. “Be practical. You know I’m not an accredited beauty. You’re right, they flocked.”

  “And they stayed with you. They didn’t leave you and visit the other heiresses. As if you were the magnet to their iron.”

  “So now I have men clinging to me like horseshoes around a magnet? Very pretty.”

  He barked a laugh. “Li
fe will never be dull with you, will it?”

  Considering who—and what—she’d agreed to marry, she could say the same. “One can only hope not,” she said primly, but then pursued her point.

  This time, when the coach jolted, she let herself remain closer to him, although not yet in his arms. If not for the presence of Marcus, she might have done so. But, well-brought-up young lady that she was, she kept apart.

  He was right. “Why didn’t I think of that before?” she said.

  “You mean why didn’t you think, ‘I must be bespelled,’ instead of ‘I’m rich and well-connected’?” Blaize grinned. “That’s why.”

  It was. Who in their right mind would think that they’d been spelled? The answer came to her in a flash. “It’s that green drink.”

  “Sounds dangerous,” Blaize drawled. “It’s all right, Lyndhurst, you can stop staring out of the window. We’re not going to argue and your contribution would be welcome. Tell us about the green drink, my sweet.”

  Despite heat rising to her cheeks when he used the endearment in front of someone else, Aurelia fought to explain. “My mother likes us to have something healthy. She’s dosed us, my brother and I, since we were little. At the moment, all she does is insist that I don’t use ceruse on my face and I have this terrible green drink as part of my breakfast. It tastes of spinach and cabbage overcooked for hours. Strong enough to overwhelm other tastes.”

  Blaize exchanged a telling look with Marcus, who had swung his attention from the green and purple Scottish scenery outside and back to them. “I wonder what she did to Kentmere?”

  “I wonder,” Marcus said heavily. “She is a witch, or she knows someone who is. The kind of sorceress who works in a stillroom and produces potions for clients. In the modern world, we denigrate such activities as old-fashioned or worse, but rationality can’t explain everything, no matter how you try.” He paused. “How I try. At one time I refused to allow that such pursuits mattered, that they were all nonsense. But then, nightshade is a natural substance. So is arsenic.”

  Aurelia pressed her fingers to her throat. “Do you think she has those things?”

  Crooning her name, Blaize touched her neck. The marks he’d left weren’t as apparent as she’d thought they would be, but they were still there. “Who did that to you?”

  “You did.”

  “No!” His initial denial was accompanied by an expression of horror. “Why?”

  “Drugs?” Marcus offered. “When we found you yesterday, you tried to throttle her. That’s why I deferred our rescue attempt until tonight. You needed to be sober for us to have any chance of escape. I was better armed when I returned, and I would have shot you if you had tried such a thing again. I had some strong men with me too. You might have noticed the coachman and footmen are rather powerful individuals.”

  Blaize shook his head. “I confess I did not. But if you had shot me, I’d have thanked you.” Gently, he traced around the marks he’d made, and to her shock, his eyes glistened with tears. “I am a thousand times sorry for this. I don’t know why you bothered to come back for me. I swear, I wouldn’t have killed you. Not in any state.”

  Aurelia wasn’t so sure, but she’d take the chance. To be with him would make the risk worthwhile. “I look a bit like my mother. Maybe you thought I was her.”

  “Or maybe your scent has changed since you stopped drinking that green stuff,” Marcus said.

  That made sense. If something about her was “off”, then Blaize might well consider she was who she said she was.

  One thing was for sure—her attraction hadn’t reduced at all. It raged at her, giving no surcease. She wouldn’t stop wanting him. She couldn’t stop loving him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Leith wasn’t too far away, but they drove slowly, for safety’s sake, and arrived in the early morning, as dawn touched the sails on the ships with pink and men were trudging to the docks to begin their day’s work.

  Aurelia knew Leith well. Unfortunately, that meant Leith knew her. The masquerade of her being Marcus’s sister wouldn’t work. They agreed that hiding wouldn’t serve any purpose, since by the time the dowager heard of their presence here, they’d be gone. So Marcus set out to ascertain that his leased ship had arrived. The time had come.

  They lodged at the inn Aurelia’s family had used before, but they explained they’d had some problems on the road and their luggage was behind them. The landlady tutted, but gave them two rooms on the main floor and promised to send a maid to see to Aurelia’s needs.

  Her reputation thrown to the winds, Aurelia settled in her room, a palace compared to the places she’d slept in the past week, and waited for Blaize to join her. When he did, she flew to him, and his arms closed around her as if he wouldn’t ever let go.

  With a groan, he settled his lips on hers and took her in a long, sweet kiss. The world was lost and good riddance to it. She gladly opened for him and welcomed his tongue into her mouth, touching hers to his, shyly at first, but his hunger overwhelmed her. He smelled earthy, but not entirely unpleasant. And it was Blaize, the man she’d despaired of seeing ever again.

  He ate at her mouth as if it could provide him with sustenance, and his hands went to her breasts. She pushed them into his palms eagerly, aching for his touch.

  “No more waiting,” she murmured when he separated their mouths and began to kiss down her throat. “Now, Blaize.”

  “I dreamed of you,” he said, frantically kissing his way down her throat. “You kept me alive. Aurelia, I need you.”

  The next minute all she was holding was cold air. Blaize stood on the other side of the room by the door. “I won’t. Not like this.”

  “Blaize, no!”

  “Blaize, yes.” His chest heaved as he drew a few sharp breaths. “I want you for my wife, Aurelia. Not a mistress. We have the rest of our lives, so what’s one night?”

  Slowly the world came back to her. The landlady would report that she spent the night with him. Of course, if they were married, it wouldn’t matter. “Can’t we say we’re married and do the deed when we get home?”

  “I have a better idea.” He lifted his hand, gestured to the window. “We’re in Scotland. We’ll marry later today. Marcus is out hunting clerics.”

  For a moment she couldn’t speak. He was right. They could. If the minister was a stickler and insisted on residential status, she could point out that she was Lady Aurelia Welles of Kentmere Castle. “It’s really happening?”

  “Yes, it is. I couldn’t be happier.” He wiped his hand over the lower half of his face. “Well, actually I could. I won’t take you like this, stinking and bearded. It’s not worthy of you. However much we both want it.” He took a cautious step back to her, but he was still feet away. “I touch you and I want you. Simple as that.”

  “Me too,” she managed to say, barely, past the lump in her throat. She’d have taken him now, still half wild man, even though the landlady would have told anyone she met. But surely it wouldn’t matter? “We marry today.” It still didn’t sound real, even when she said it aloud.

  “We do.” His smile could have melted diamonds. “And I need a bath. Or haven’t you noticed?”

  She smiled back. How could she not? “No, not really. Although you’re not as bad today.”

  “It rained,” he said simply. “And I stole my guard’s clothes. He won’t need them.” He lifted his arm and sniffed his sleeve. “These aren’t too savoury. I’ll send out for something else. I won’t marry you in these.” He took another step forward and tentatively held out one hand. Shyly, she took it, and he gripped it firmly. “You still want to do this? I don’t mean marry me. You must do that, to retain your position. But you don’t have to get involved in the rest. I have a great many houses and six large estates. You can go to any of those, if you wish, and never see me again. Or live in my house in London and I’ll leave. You know what it will mean, being closely associated with me. You also know you don’t have to do that.”

 
“You’ll give me your name, but not your body?”

  “Something of that nature.” He gave a characteristic one-sided grin. “But now you know what’s involved. You’ll be involved in the struggle. You could die.”

  “We all die.”

  “I want to convert you.” He said it abruptly, as if he couldn’t stop himself.

  She cradled the warmth of his hand and frowned. “Convert me to what?”

  “What I am.” He spoke in a rush, as if afraid she would interrupt him. “It will make you stronger, so that you can take care of yourself. Combat others with more power.”

  “And what else?”

  “Your blood will become ichor. It will be clear, and lethal to humans if they absorb it. You will live longer.”

  “How long?”

  He shrugged. “As long as you wish. We can’t die through illness or old age, but severe injury will still destroy us. We can drown too. It’s possible to destroy yourself. When we die, our attributes move to the nearest pregnant body. The nearest unborn child.”

  “And you want to do that to me? How is it done?”

  “We cut ourselves a little. Bring our blood into contact.”

  She spotted the flaw immediately. “But if your blood touches me, I’ll die.”

  He drew her closer and his voice softened. “Do you think for one moment that I’d hurt you? There’s a test we can do to see if you are compatible, but since your mother is an immortal, I don’t think we’ll have any problems. But this isn’t conditional on the marriage. I’m telling you now so you can think about it. We will marry anyway. How we conduct ourselves afterward is up to us.”

  Although she had little choice, he was trying to give her as much as possible. She appreciated that. She loved him for it. He was so far above her level that she couldn’t imagine why he’d ever want her, and she’d never underestimated her own worth before. Supremely practical, she’d never seen the point of it. But now she could. He would live forever, he was powerful and he was fighting a foe that she couldn’t imagine facing.